


A Light in Dark Places

by shinigami714



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flowers bloomed beneath his very feet, and the sun shone upon his head like a halo. As long as Bilbo Baggins walked the lands they would surely be blessed with life for eternity. An AU inspired and based on the myth of Demeter and Persephone. Prompted by Numia22.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in Dark Places

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Une lumière dans les ténèbres](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6654397) by [Eivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eivia/pseuds/Eivia)



> Numia22 prompted me to write this ages ago, and I've since seen a lot of fanart focusing on the same plotline. Finally decided to give it a go. I've changed a lot of plot points, mainly because classic mythology tends to be written in a style that is very predictable and linear, and well, we're dealing with hobbits and dwarves instead of gods and so on.

Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain, had ruled over the dark depths of Erebor for many centuries. Always he guarded the dead, kept the creatures of darkness at bay, and prevented chaos from overtaking Middle Earth. It was his duty to protect with the aid of his kingdom of dwarves. Just as it was his father's before him, and his grandfather's long before that, and as it would be for those in the Durin line after him. Thorin was trapped and condemned to life under the mountain but had long since accepted his unfortunate fate.

The king was tall for a dwarf, with long dark wavy locks of hair that had once shone raven black, but were now streaked with silvery strands of grey. He was strong, in both mind and body, and his penetrating gaze and booming voice commanded those around him with ease. Though he had perhaps once been joyous, a smile had not graced his face for many years. The long tedious ages spent in darkness and his devotion to his duty weighed heavily on his soul and many grew to dislike him. The few moments in which Thorin Oakenshield set foot upon the land of the living proved as much. The people of Middle Earth shied away from him in fear, and recoiled when he approached. They would scream in terror and hide in their homes lest the deadly gaze of the dwarf king catch their forms. Death. He reeked of it. And many believed just a fleeting sight of the King under the mountain would place a curse upon you, the curse of death itself.

Despite this the dwarves of his realm loved and respected him above all. The people under the mountain grew to revere their king, who never failed in his duty and always guided lost souls to their rightful place. He was steadfast and resolute in his leadership, and no temptation above ground would move him from his place as King under the mountain. They disliked seeing their king so unhappy, his face drawn and eyes empty, and they knew that he would soon succumb to the darkness like his forefathers had before him. The people showered him with gifts of gold and jewels, which he adored, but still he remained full of despair and sat stonily on his throne. His nephews, Fili and Kili, stood by his side and watched with sorrowful eyes as Thorin grew more and more consumed by the shadows surrounding him. They knew something had to be done.

And so it was that Fili and Kili Durin went above ground and searched long and hard for something, anything that would bring life back into their uncle's sad eyes. Their feet carried them far across the domains of Middle Earth until finally they reached a land filled with such beauty and energy, and creatures that positively radiated with light, that any who looked upon it would surely find joy in their hearts. It was called the Shire.

The hobbits of the Shire were a merry folk. They danced and sang and spent hours in their gardens bringing life forth from the soil. They provided food and nourishment for all of the creatures of Middle Earth, and it was told they even caused the many great forests to grow tall and plentiful.

Amongst them was one particular hobbit, with locks the colour of the purest honey, and eyes that shone with mirth. Bilbo Baggins was loved by all. His gardens were the brightest, his grass the greenest, and his very presence inspired all who laid eyes on him. He had an adventurous spirit, rare amongst hobbits, and often he travelled into the wild leaving life and bountiful harvests in his wake.

Fili and Kili were awed by the sight of such a beautiful place and such a beautiful being, and the two dwarf lads concocted a plan. It was not difficult to create a simple path from under the mountain, and the dwarves led a small pack of vengeful spirits to attack the tiny village. Thorin kept a watchful eye upon the lands above, and it did not take long for him to hear the bitter stomps resonating from a land where they should not be. With a heavy frown, he took his chariot, pulled by dark shadowy wargs, and travelled swiftly to the Shire.

The lands were riddled with the lost souls of Erebor, and they stormed across the green hills leaving chaos in their wake. The hobbits of the Shire were a tiny and peaceful folk, unsuited for fighting and full of purity and innocence. They ran in fear from the creatures and Thorin Oakenshield grew angry at the sight of such a wondrous place overrun with those he was meant to keep confined. He hurried to gather up the creatures and sent them into the depths of Erebor once more. The dwarf king's form cast a dark shadow over the village, as his chariot of wargs circled and gathered each and every lost soul. The hobbits cowered away from his form, frightened by such a menacing figure and they hissed and whispered of the curse of death, the curse that would surely claim them all.

Thorin watched the fear in the hobbits' eyes and sadness filled his own. He would never belong amongst such a people and he was again reminded of his proper place in Erebor. The dwarf hurried to leave, turning his chariot and opening a tunnel into the ground when a tiny voice spoke out to him.

"Master dwarf," the hobbit uttered, and though it was quiet, Thorin heard the words clearly. He turned, his gaze landing on the form of Bilbo Baggins, and the dwarf's eyes widened at the sight of such a wondrous being.

"Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain, you've saved my village on this day, and you have my eternal gratitude," Bilbo spoke with surprising confidence and Thorin observed him raptly. The young hobbit was everything he was not, pure, joyous, and filled with the gift of life. His very feet had flowers blooming beneath them, and the sun seemed to cast a halo around the golden curls atop his head. The king was instantly captivated. Never before had another looked into his eyes so intently, and an unfamiliar feeling took hold of his heart. In that single moment, he fell in love.

"At your service, Master hobbit," Thorin replied, his deep voice carrying across the fields of the Shire. He bowed slightly and took one last look at the hobbit that intrigued him so. Thorin returned to Erebor with a rare smile upon his face, and the dwarves noticed the change in their king immediately. His eyes were alight with positive emotion, and he continued his duties with a renewed purpose and sensibility. Always he kept an eye on the Shire, and frequently he gazed into the distance fondly at a particular hobbit in those lands.

The more he watched Bilbo Baggins however, the quicker the light began to leave his eyes once again. Thorin realised it was impossible for him to ever have such a being. A hobbit would never leave his home, and surely not to live in the darkness of Erebor. Especially not a hobbit as great as Bilbo Baggins. The dwarf king's expression was filled with sorrow once more, his eyes blanker than ever and his demeanor listless and brooding. He fell into a deep depression, one that could only be caused by heartbreak. Thorin threw himself into his duties more than ever before, always keeping an eye on the Shire. Even if he could not have his love, he would protect the hobbit's lands fiercely until his final days.

His nephews watched on with guilt in their eyes. Their plan had only worsened things, and they feared the loss of their uncle would come far sooner than it should have. The two dwarves were at a loss and they sought out the only being in Middle Earth they knew might be able to help.

Gandalf the Grey was a mysterious wizard. He came and went when he chose to, and he appeared only when the time was exactly right. Fili and Kili looked for him day and night, but in the end it was the wizard that found them, and only after they had given up their search. Gandalf appeared with a brilliant blast of light in the depths of Erebor, leaving the two dwarves gaping at his sudden arrival. He raised an eyebrow at them and stepped calmly towards their uncle's throne. Thorin sat up straighter and looked upon the wizard with a frown.

"Gandalf, what business do you have with me?" Thorin queried, his face somber and his eyes emotionless. Wizards were meddlers, and frequently trouble followed in their footsteps. The dwarf king was always hesitant to deal with them. They often made more of a mess than anything else.

"I can help you Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain. I know what you desire," Gandalf implied and Thorin tightened his fingers into fists. He hadn't missed the wizard's subtle glance up towards the land of the living.

"And what is in it for you?" Thorin pressed. Gandalf let out a little chuckle and smiled knowingly.

"For me? Why nothing Master dwarf. I merely wish to thank you. For years you have watched over Middle Earth, making sure all creatures of light are merry. Is it not time for you to have some happiness yourself?" Gandalf questioned and Thorin scrutinized him suspiciously.

"And what would you suggest I do? Erebor is no place for a hobbit. You would have me corrupt a creature of light, one that surely does not love me in return," The dwarf spoke fiercely, and he tapped his fingers loudly against his throne. Gandalf stepped closer and gestured wildly with his hands.

"Take what is rightfully yours, bring the hobbit from the Shire down into your kingdom, and in time he will grow to love you in return," Gandalf proposed softly, his voice nearly a whisper and Thorin found himself leaning closer to him to hear. The dwarf seemed to consider the statement for some time with a renewed light in his eyes. He desperately wanted to follow the wizard's plan, even though his gut told him only trouble would arise from such an act. Still, the thought of Bilbo Baggins sitting next to him each day was far too tempting. Perhaps it was the darkness around him that clouded his judgement, but he was intrigued by the wizard's scheme. There was one problem remaining.

"And how do you propose I take him? He is always surrounded by others, and would surely not approach a dark portal to my kingdom alone. I cannot simply take a creature of the light and bring them into my mountain," Thorin prodded and Gandalf grinned in return. The wizard searched in his bags and removed a satchel, then handed it to the dwarf. Thorin peeked inside and his eyes widened.

"Leave this where your beloved shall see it. He is a curious soul, one who often unknowingly seeks adventure. It will call out to him, and he will surely approach it. When he touches it, your portal will open, and you may whisk him away," Gandalf promised and Thorin gripped the satchel tightly and dismissed the wizard with a nod.

* * *

Bilbo Baggins loved the Shire with all his heart. Just like any hobbit, he enjoyed the comforts of home, a warm hearth, good food, and even the feeling of grass beneath his feet. And though many thought it strange how he loved to set out and see new things, the other hobbits of the Shire still loved him dearly. For Bilbo was gifted. Wherever he set foot, life would spring forth from the ground. Forests followed in his paths, and gardens bloomed in his presence. He loved flowers, he loved the sun, and he loved the sound of birds singing in the morning. Each day Bilbo would walk through the Shire, ensuring that the gardens were thriving. Occasionally his feet would carry him beyond the Shire. And in this way many great forests were born to Middle Earth. Many believed, as long as Bilbo Baggins walked in Middle Earth, the sun would shine down on its lands, and the soil would be gifted with great harvest.

On this particular day Bilbo felt compelled to walk to the rolling hills just on the edge of Hobbiton. He liked to pick from the many flowers that graced them and he enjoyed the feeling of the soft grass on his bare feet and the mud between his toes. He nearly ran up the hillside, rejoicing in the beautiful sunlight upon his face and he brought three trees up from the earth just for the joy of it. Soon he was laughing and rolling around on the grassy land and he took a moment to gaze up at the clouds above. He truly loved his home.

It was much later in the afternoon when Bilbo finally got up to head back to his hobbit hole, however he caught the glint of something not too far away. He moved towards the shiny object and his eyes widened when they landed on a tiny gold ring nestled atop the petals of a flower. Bilbo wasn't fond of gold, or jewels, but still he found himself leaning forwards to look a little closer. The ring caused a strange feeling to awake within him, and though his mind told him not to touch it his heart convinced him otherwise, and he was soon reaching out and plucking the ring from the flower with his fingers. Suddenly the ground turned black as night, and began crumbling away, the flowers dying around him. Bilbo stuttered back, the ring clenched tightly between his fingers, as a giant hole appeared and a dark chariot flew up from it in a cloud of wispy shadows. Before Bilbo even had a chance to scream he was gripped around his waist and pulled into the darkness.

Cold overtook his heart as the sun disappeared above him and Bilbo felt a fear unlike any he had ever known. He glanced up and caught sight of Thorin Oakenshield's powerful form, his eyes determined and set on his destination. As dark tunnels sped past, Bilbo struggled in his grip. The other hobbits of the Shire had thought him insane for speaking to the dwarf king, perhaps they had been right after all. Surely Thorin Oakenshield had gone mad, kidnapping him from his home in such a way. The curse of death had found him!

Bilbo's eyes flickered around as tunnels sped past and his belly lurched when the chariot dropped suddenly even further into the ground. The hobbit gasped as dirt faded into a deep cavern, and dark pillars and jewels began to surround him. He had heard whisperings of a dark kingdom underground, the very kingdom Thorin Oakenshield ruled over. Spirits gathered in the dark corners and creatures Bilbo could not name lurked in the darkest shadows. It was a terrifying place, void of sunlight, and not a flower or sign of life in sight. The chariot landed in the midst of a great room, with tall ceilings and décor the like of which Bilbo had never laid eyes on. The wargs disappeared into the shadows and Thorin placed him gently on his feet.

Bilbo shook for a moment as his eyes took in his surroundings. Large stone thrones sat against the far wall and sculptures of great monsters towered over his tiny form. The dwarf king moved to stand in front of him, his unyielding eyes gazing down at him intensely. Bilbo's mouth open and closed, though he could not manage to form words, and then the dwarf's eyes softened and he smiled gently. The hobbit gaped at him in confusion.

"Bilbo Baggins, welcome to my kingdom," Thorin began and then he moved closer to kneel in front of Bilbo. The dwarf gripped his hands in his own, taking the golden ring and sliding it upon one of his tiny fingers.

"I would be honored to have you as my bride," The dwarf uttered.

"W-what?" Bilbo gasped, unable to comprehend what the king was saying. Surely he must have been joking! Bilbo wrenched his hands away from the dwarf's grasp and stepped away in fright.

"I can't marry you! Are you completely insane? Of all the insolent…you cannot just take someone as your bride master dwarf!" Bilbo shouted at the dwarf and then he shook a bit and pulled the ring swiftly from his finger, throwing it to the ground. It clattered and rolled away, the sound echoing in the large hall. Thorin frowned and stood moving closer to the hobbit, but with each step he took, Bilbo would take another back.

"Please, I do not wish you harm," Thorin nearly whispered, his eyes betraying his worry for the Halfling.

"D-do not wish me harm you say! And yet you've kidnapped me from my home, taken me from the safety of my lands, and brought me here! To this desolate and disgusting place. If you do not wish me harm you will take me back immediately!" Bilbo yelled. Thorin flinched slightly at the words, finally beginning to regret ever listening to a wizard's advice. He knew the hobbit would miss his home, but the anger that came with it he had not expected.

"I cannot do that Bilbo, I…I need you here, with me. I can give you anything you want. Mountains of gold if you wish, endless amounts of jewels, name it and it is yours!" Thorin explained and his arms gestured to their surroundings and at the vast wealth of his kingdom. He could not lose his one chance at happiness and he would offer anything in his power to have Bilbo Baggins stay with him under the mountain. The hobbit just shook his head with saddened eyes.

"You have no flowers here master dwarf. And your jewels have no fragrance. Trust me, there is nothing you can give me that I would possibly want," Bilbo insisted, his voice quiet and his eyes emotionless.

"What do you wish for my hobbit, tell me and I will give you it," Thorin nearly begged. There had to be something he could give to the Halfling to please him, to make him stay.

"I wish for the sun upon my face again, the wind in my hair, the grass beneath my feet. I wish for my home, my gardens, and forests. Tell me, can you give me these things?" Bilbo asked.

"You know I cannot," Thorin admitted, his voice sullen as his hands fell to his sides.

"Then there is nothing I want from you," Bilbo voiced, his eyes falling to look upon the stone floor.

"And what of my love for you?" Thorin asked desperately, but Bilbo looked up at him ferociously at the words.

"Love means nothing when it is not returned!" the hobbit shouted and he turned and stormed off into one of the many halls under the mountain. Thorin noted that his nephews followed behind him, thankful that at least Bilbo would be safe and guarded in his anger. Thorin's eyes were filled with grief and he turned them to gaze upon the gold ring on the ground. He walked to it slowly and picked it up gently. The ring looked small between his fingers and it only reminded him of the hobbit. He tucked it away in a pocket in an attempt to let his thoughts run free, but always Bilbo's anguished face presented itself and Thorin became consumed with his sadness once again. He knew the hobbit could not leave his mountain on his own, but could he truly keep him there against his will in good conscience?

As days passed by, Thorin did not give up hope. He continued to approach Bilbo and offer him gifts of gold, emeralds, diamonds, and rubies. He showered him with silken fabrics and even offered great feasts for the hobbit to partake in. Still Bilbo refused everything, with the knowledge that he did not belong in such a place. Accepting such gifts was as good as accepting the king, and he could never do such a thing. Always Bilbo longed for his home, for the beautiful flowers and gardens, his hearth and the warm sun. He missed his friends, he missed the fresh air, and he missed the birds singing in the early morning. There was nothing Thorin Oakenshield could possibly give him that would convince him to stay.

* * *

Bilbo began to talk to the many spirits of Erebor for lack of anything better to do with his time, and he found he quite excelled at it. The dead seemed to enjoy his personality, practically latching onto him as he walked through the halls. In the darkness Bilbo presented an unusual light. His white clothing practically glowed in the shadows and even his body was warm and inviting. The spirits of the dead were drawn to him, and Bilbo did his best to comfort their lost souls.

He also befriended many of the dwarves of Erebor. He needed someone to talk to after all, as long as the insolent dwarf king chose to keep him imprisoned under the mountain. Amongst his favourite were the King's own nephews, Fili and Kili. The two dwarves were playful and friendly, everything their uncle was not, and they always accompanied Bilbo through the great halls, making sure he was safe and relatively comfortable. After yet another frustrating argument with Thorin they followed Bilbo and questioned him.

"Why do you hate our uncle so much Bilbo?" Kili asked innocently and Bilbo glared at him briefly but realised the dwarf was simply curious.

"He's insufferable. He should have taken me back home ages ago, but still he refuses to let me leave!" Bilbo seethed and gestured his hands wildly.

"He loves you Bilbo," Fili said from his other side and the hobbit turned to look at him quickly.

"How can he possibly love me when he knows nothing about me? He wants me just as he wants his gems and gold, as a possession and nothing more. What could the King of death possibly know of love?" Bilbo asked of the dwarf. Fili glanced at his brother before resting a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"His eyes change when he looks upon you. He has never looked upon another as he does you, not even the Arkenstone captures his attention as you do, and it is the greatest jewel of our people," Fili explained and then he smiled gently and continued.

"Before our uncle laid eyes on you he was mere days away from death himself. The darkness was consuming him, just as it did his father and grandfather. You are the only thing that keeps the darkness at bay. Your light transforms him, keeps him sane," Fili voiced and Bilbo frowned. He did not wish harm upon the dwarf king, not really. He had saved his village from the dark creatures after all. To be fair, Thorin had never actually hurt him. He'd done nothing but try to make Bilbo as comfortable as possible, but still that did not change the fact that he'd been taken unwillingly from his home.

"It's love Bilbo, only love can do such a thing," Kili said with a hearty chuckle.

"And anyway, it was not his idea to kidnap you," Fili casually mentioned and Bilbo looked at him curiously.

"Thorin meant to leave you be, to watch over you from far away. He…did not wish to take you away from the home you loved so dearly. He was already becoming consumed by the darkness when the wizard showed up," Fili said and Kili wrapped an arm around the hobbit's shoulder.

"Aye, it was Gandalf's idea to bring you to Erebor, to save our uncle from death," Kili added. Bilbo stopped walking in an instant.

"Gandalf? Gandalf the Grey?" The hobbit asked suddenly. The wizard was known far and wide across the lands of middle earth. He showed up only when he felt it necessary and usually left a mess in his wake

"Wizards!" Bilbo shouted, and started walking briskly away. The two dwarves chuckled lightly and followed along, glad that they had redirected the hobbit's anger, at least temporarily. No one commented on how Gandalf's messes always seemed to get resolved, one way or another.

* * *

Thorin was torn. He did not know whether he should be happy or upset. He had the hobbit, here in the mountain with him, but at the same time, his love was most definitely not returned. He had tried everything in his power to convince Bilbo he could find happiness beside him in Erebor, to no avail. Bilbo Baggins did not seem to want anything he could offer. The fair creature had struck him like nothing ever before. He longed desperately for the hobbit to stay with him forever, but he could not keep him hidden in darkness much longer. It was clear that Bilbo longed for his home, and above all Thorin wished for his happiness. He was a fool for thinking such happiness could ever be found at his side.

Thorin confided rarely in those around him, but his troubles had become so all-consuming that he felt he must. There was one dwarf he could always rely on, one of his closest and wisest friends. Balin was an old dwarf. He'd lived under the mountain for some time, and aided Thorin in all matters of business. Balin always had a kind word to say, and he was one of the first to show concern when the darkness began to consume the dwarf king. Thorin approached the other dwarf in the library, slinking down into the chair next to him with a heavy sigh.

"Thorin, what ails you my friend?" Balin asked as he closed the large tome he was poring over. Thorin glanced at him with a confused frown, struggling to voice his worries.

"I have been a fool Balin," he finally spoke, running one of his thick hands through his hair and Balin waited patiently for his friend to elaborate.

"I should never have allowed that wizard to help me. Bilbo belongs in the Shire, where he is happy. Not here with me. I am a fool to think such a beautiful creature could ever love one such as me," Thorin mumbled, the anguish in his voice apparent. Balin moved to place a hand upon his king's arm. He hated seeing Thorin suffer, and it seemed he had been cursed to do nothing but.

"Thorin, you are a great king! Each day you protect Middle Earth from creatures of darkness. Each day you guide lost souls to find peace in their death," Balin reassured his friend. Thorin's eyes looked up at him, filled with more sorrow than Balin had ever seen within them. The other dwarf was a kind soul truly, though he hid it well.

"It is true, the wizard's plan was perhaps…not the best course of action. But I still believe you are more than worthy of the Halfling's love. It will take time, I'm sure, but he will come to understand how wonderful you are. Do not give up hope," Balin spoke wisely and desperately prayed his words would come true. Thorin looked so unsure. His eyes were unfocused and his brows furrowed. He clenched his hands tightly in front of him. Balin recalled the day Thorin had first laid eyes on the hobbit. He'd never seen him happier, more at peace. The old dwarf knew Bilbo Baggins was the key to saving his king from darkness.

* * *

Gandalf the Grey enjoyed visiting all ends of Middle Earth. He had friends in all places, and knew the lands like the back of his hand. However, for the first time in his many years, the forest in front of him was unfamiliar to him. The trees were dying. The leaves were shrivelled and falling one after the other to the dry ground below. The grass crunched unnaturally under his feet, and even the air felt cool and ungainly. There was a strange frigidness to the wind that made the wizard shiver. He was sure however, that the forest before him had once flourished. That it was once thicker and taller than any. He was sure the forest before him had been the beautiful Greenwood, though now, it could not possibly take claim to such a name.

Gandalf hesitantly stepped between the desolate trees and looked worriedly up at the grey sky above. Something terrible was happening to Middle Earth. He'd heard whisperings of death across the once lush lands. Nothing was growing anymore, nothing thrived. Birds no longer sang, bees no longer buzzed, and the flowers wilted and lost their vibrant colour. Even the sun failed to light up the land, the sky now cluttered with thick dark clouds. The hobbits of the Shire no longer felt compelled to create life, having lost their greatest inspiration, and it seemed that sadness was spreading quickly. The wizard shuffled his feet for a moment. He knew something had to be done, lest death and decay destroy everything. Gandalf sighed heavily. It seemed he'd made a terrible mistake.

* * *

Bilbo found he became more and more accustomed to life under the mountain. He grew to like the unusually quiet hallways, despite their lack of life, as he found the many spirits that walked them fascinating. Though many chose to keep to themselves and not confide in Bilbo, there were those whom spoke to him happily, and Bilbo listened. He listened as they told him stories of their lives, and of their deaths. In fact he listened to just about anything they were willing to speak of. The dead had a unique perspective on just about everything. And Bilbo had a unique way of comforting them and making them feel welcome.

He was chatting with a remarkably chipper spirit one evening when Kili approached him and beckoned him to follow. They wandered through hallways that Bilbo didn't recognize until eventually he motioned the dwarf to stop.

"Kili, what's this about? Where are you taking me?" Bilbo questioned. Truthfully he felt rather edgy. The walls around him were the tallest he'd seen in the mountain, and the rock was cold and suffocating. Bilbo shivered slightly as he looked at his surroundings and felt even more uneasy as Kili looked around nervously.

"Bilbo…have you ever…," Kili began and he leaned close to whisper.

"Have you ever seen him working Bilbo?" Kili asked him, and Bilbo looked at him with interest. He knew who the other dwarf was referring to. Who other than Thorin? Kili was always trying to convince him of the dwarf king's worth. The hobbit frowned lightly but shook his head. It was true that during his stay under the mountain he had yet to see Thorin deal with a single spirit. To be honest he was completely at a loss as to what the dwarf actually did. Though many of the spirits he spoke with had mentioned the king fondly.

Kili seemed to gain confidence at this and pulled him along quicker behind him. Bilbo mumbled some complaints but the dwarf hushed him swiftly and pulled him into a niche.

"Look, just there, through that doorway. It's quite something," Kili spoke reverently and he pointed into an even darker room, lit only with the soft light of a candle. Bilbo stepped closer and peered into the room. Thorin Oakenshield stood in the centre of the room facing towards an eerily empty corner. He was stoic as always, and not a touch of emotion was visible upon his face. Suddenly a vibrant light came from one side of the room and Bilbo had to stifle a gasp as a young boy walked fearfully into the room from seemingly nowhere.

"K-kili? What's going on?" Bilbo stuttered out. He felt a chill pass through his body, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Kili gripped his arms to steady him and pushed him a little closer.

"He's crossing over, watch," Kili whispered and Bilbo swallowed thickly. His eyes were glued to the child. The more he looked the more he noticed. The child was barefoot, and when he moved, soft wisps floated from his body. His eyes were so incredibly lost that Bilbo felt compelled to run to him, to hold him, but Kili held him in place. He was struck with the realization that the child before him was dead, and Bilbo struggled to understand how someone so young and so pure could possibly die.

As the boy moved further into the room his eyes found the dwarf king and he looked up at him in terror and stepped away.

"Don't be frightened my child," Thorin spoke, his voice strong as always, though there was a softness in it that Bilbo had not heard before. The dwarf held out a hand as if beckoning the lost child towards him.

"W-where am I?" The boy stammered softly, his arms moving to wrap around his body. Thorin knelt to the ground and held out both arms and the child looked at him for a moment before running towards the dwarf. Thorin gripped him tightly, the child's form shifting and flickering in his grip.

"Shh…it's alright. All will be well, all will be well," Thorin spoke gently, and his eyes betrayed his sadness.

"It's cold. Where's mother? And father?" The boy asked quietly and Thorin pulled away to look into his empty eyes.

"Do not worry little one, they are with you," he reassured the child, running a hand across the top of his head.

"They will always be with you," Thorin said and the boy looked up at him with awe. Thorin dragged a thumb across the boy's brow and smiled slightly.

"Be at peace now," he finished. The boy gazed Thorin for a few more moments before he closed his eyes and disappeared. Thorin stayed in his place kneeling on the ground and his eyes went distant and the smile disappeared from his face. He looked sullen and full of despair. Bilbo couldn't look away. He was so captivated by the king he failed to notice Kili's grip on his arms tightening. And then suddenly he was falling forwards into the room with a shriek. Thorin turned to look at him in surprise and Bilbo gasped and looked behind him at the door. Kili was nowhere to be seen. Curse that troublemaking dwarf! Bilbo knew he never should have trusted the little minx.

"Bilbo? What are you doing here?" Thorin asked and he moved to stand.

"Just…got lost is all, the hallways were dark," Bilbo blurted out as he brushed invisible dirt from his clothing. The two stood awkwardly before each other for some time.

"Well…," Bilbo began and he turned slightly towards the door.

"Wait!" Thorin shouted and Bilbo looked at him in surprise. The dwarf had an arm raised towards him but he lowered it and looked away from the hobbit nervously. He composed himself and looked towards Bilbo with determination.

"Master Bilbo, would you care to join me this eve for a feast in the dining hall?" Thorin proposed and Bilbo considered him for a moment. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to give in, to just say yes to the king before him. He'd seen a side of Thorin he thought didn't exist. The more he looked into Thorin's eyes the more his heart ached. But still he just...couldn't.

"No, I would not," Bilbo spoke steadily, but he looked away at the hurt he saw in the other's eyes. Bilbo heard Thorin let out a heavy breath.

"What can I do to make you love me in return?" Thorin whispered, and Bilbo scrunched his eyes closed when he heard the dwarf's voice break ever so slightly. He couldn't give in, he couldn't let the dwarf get to him, not after all this time.

"Let me go," Bilbo declared, and he refused to let his voice falter. He turned quickly, before he changed his mind, and rushed out of the room. Thorin watched him leave and a dark heaviness settled in his heart. He clenched his fingers into his palms. He had no right to continue holding the hobbit prisoner in his mountain. He should have let him go the moment he first asked. He should never have brought him to Erebor to begin with. Bilbo's light was so beautiful, and he only clouded it with darkness.

* * *

It took Bilbo hours to find his room again. He shouldn't have rushed off on his own so quickly, but he couldn't stay with Thorin. The air around them had been so thick with pain and sorrow. Bilbo knew he was hurting the dwarf king deeply, and another moment in his presence may have crumbled his resolve. He directed his anger towards Kili instead, for putting him into the situation to begin with. Stupid dwarves! Stupid mountains! When he made it back home, he'd never set foot atop one again. And if nothing ever grew on them again, so be it! He sighed in relief when he recognized the corridor he was in. Bilbo hurried back to his room and nearly collapsed just inside it. Instead he leaned heavily back against the door and tried to clear his thoughts.

His mind kept travelling back to Thorin. He remembered the way the dwarf looked as he held the lost spirit of a child, of how gently he had spoken, and the softness in his face. He remembered the vulnerability he heard in the other's voice as he spoke to him, and the desperation and love in his eyes. No one had ever looked at Bilbo like that before, and a part of him longed to run back into the hallways until he found the dwarf king in them.

Bilbo exhaled loudly then moved towards his bed. He was tired, and he needed a good rest to clear his mind. He wasn't thinking straight. But even his plans for sleep were thwarted, for there on his pillow lay an intricate golden crown. Bilbo stood enthralled. It was inlaid with sapphires and emeralds so brilliantly colourful, and engraved with elaborate patterns around the base. It wasn't the richness of it however that impressed him, but instead the beautiful shapes that adorned it. Flowers, of all kinds had been crafted from gold and forged around the top of the crown. There were lilies and orchids, daisies and bluebells. Bilbo reached out to touch it, almost expecting the soft trace of petals, though his fingers met only the solidness of gold. Still, Bilbo lifted the crown into his hands and stared at it.

Something told him it was more than just a simple gift of gold. That Thorin had crafted the crown himself, laboured over it, and diligently sculpted the flowers from the metal. Bilbo slid to the floor, the crown still clasped between his fingers. He would not be getting any sleep, not that night.

* * *

Thorin was exhausted. He had spent the entire night dealing with the lost souls of children, as an orc raid in a small village had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of innocent families. He felt horror at the thought of so many young ones passing through. He heard the fear in their voices as they stood before him, desperately searching for their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Darkness was beginning to creep at his soul again and did not know how much longer he could fight it. He rubbed furiously at his brow, trying in vain to ward off the ache in his mind.

He grumbled lightly as he heard the heavy doors to the throne room open and lifted his eyes blearily when a vibrant light emanated from them. He knew it was Bilbo before he saw the Halfling's form, for no other creature he'd met before shone quite so brightly. He hesitantly looked towards him, expecting the usual anger and spite directed towards him, but instead he was met with acceptance. Thorin's eyes locked on the form of the hobbit and widened in surprise. There on top of his head lay the golden crown Thorin had spent so many days working on. It sat amongst Bilbo's blonde curls as though it was a part of him, and the gems sparkled brilliantly though still failed to diminish the hobbit's own light. Thorin stood quickly, the pain in his mind all but forgotten as he stepped towards the hobbit.

Bilbo studied him unsurely but with more openness than he ever had before and Thorin felt a sudden swelling in his heart. He reached up to caress the metal flowers atop the other's head and smiled. He was at a loss as to what to say, afraid he would only scare Bilbo away once more.

"I know they are not real, but…I wanted to give you something you held dear. I know how you love the gardens of your homeland. It was the best I could offer," Thorin finally voiced and Bilbo swallowed and looked away without responding. The dwarf was unsure whether he had upset the hobbit and he lowered his hand back to his side.

"Would you, sit next to me today?" He asked softly, and to his surprise Bilbo nodded and followed as he took his place on his throne. For the first time in a long while, Thorin was truly happy. Bilbo looked stunning sitting in the throne beside his, and when Thorin reached a hand over he was overwhelmed with joy as Bilbo placed his smaller one atop it. The dwarf king gripped the hobbit's fingers tightly and knew he had been blessed. He could only hope such happiness would last forever.

The day went by quicker than any other had before, and Thorin ruled with such surety that his nephews and followers barely recognized him. Never before had such a smile rest upon their king's lips, and they desperately wished it would stay there for eternity. However it was wiped away in an instant with the arrival of an unexpected evening guest.

Thorin watched pensively as Gandalf the Grey flashed into his hallway. He knew immediately that the wizard brought only more trouble from the uneasy expression that resided on his face. Thorin frowned and unconsciously tightened his grip on Bilbo's hand.

"Gandalf, it has not been long since your last visit," Thorin began and the wizard nodded at him. Thorin glanced to his side at Bilbo then looked back towards Gandalf cautiously.

"What brings you to my kingdom this time?" He asked hesitantly.

"I must take Bilbo back to the Shire," Gandalf stated, not wasting any time. The dwarves in the hall erupted in disagreement. Thorin's nephews yelled at the wizard and even Bilbo gasped in surprise at his words.

"Explain yourself wizard," Thorin demanded. He'd never felt more anger. The wizard himself had suggested he take Bilbo, and now he wished to steal him away! The dwarf king was seething. He knew he never should have trusted a wizard! Gandalf did not flinch under the scrutiny, instead clasping his staff in front of him confidently while he spoke.

"Middle Earth is dying. The trees are bare, the winds are cool. The people suffer! Surely you have noticed Thorin! More spirits enter your kingdom each and every day. The lands above are more desolate than ever before," Gandalf insisted and Thorin glanced at Bilbo again. The hobbit's eyes were wide and filled with horror. The wizard's words were truthful. Thorin had helped so many spirits in the past few days he had lost count. So many children, so many innocents. Darkness was beginning to cloud the lands above just as it had his own soul.

"The hobbits of the Shire are filled with despair by Bilbo's absence. Without him the lands grow cold and empty. He must go back!" Gandalf pleaded with Thorin, gesturing his hands wildly around him. The dwarves argued amongst each other and threw insults towards the wizard, but Thorin lifted a hand to silence them. He found the longer he gazed at Bilbo the quicker the anger left him. He just couldn't find the will to be upset with the wizard anymore. For he was right, Bilbo had to return. He'd known it for ages now, and had just been unwilling to let him go. Though he was truly happy to have Bilbo at his side…Bilbo would never be truly happy at his. He dropped the hobbit's fingers from his hand and turned towards Gandalf with a regretful nod.

"I understand. Take him home Gandalf, he does not belong here with me," Thorin uttered with unfeeling eyes and Bilbo looked towards him with surprise. His nephews gaped at him.

"Uncle!" Kili shouted but Fili held him back and quickly hushed him. Thorin stood from his throne and beckoned Bilbo to do the same. The hobbit watched him uncertainly but followed behind as he walked with Gandalf to the centre of the hall. When Thorin turned to look at him Bilbo shivered at the intensity in his eyes. It was clear that Thorin did not wish him to go, but he knew he must.

"Bilbo, I ask you accept this," Thorin said, holding out the gold ring that had started everything. Bilbo shook his head but Thorin pulled him close.

"Please, I know it has cursed you to life under this mountain for so long, but please…keep it, and should you ever wish to return, merely put it on," Thorin begged him and Bilbo shook in his hold. His heart was thumping loud in his ears as he looked into Thorin's eyes.

"I will take it, but…I cannot promise I shall ever return," Bilbo whispered and he took the ring delicately from the other's hand. Thorin clasped Bilbo's fingers between his then lifted a hand to brush at his curly locks. Bilbo trembled at the sincerity he saw in the dwarf's eyes and looked away nervously. He felt so uncertain.

"I hope someday you can forgive me. I did not mean to cause you harm," Thorin uttered and he pushed Bilbo towards Gandalf.

"Go," the dwarf said as he turned to face his throne. Bilbo almost felt like crying. He watched Thorin's back as he approached the wizard. He wanted to stay! He didn't want to leave. He wanted to run back towards the dwarf and hold him, and it frightened him terribly. When had his heart betrayed him so? He felt so torn. He wanted to go home, he knew Middle Earth needed him. But he couldn't help but think that Thorin might need him more. When Gandalf held out his arm, Bilbo linked his through it, and they disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The hobbit closed his eyes tightly, willing himself not to cry, the crown of flowers still atop his head, and the golden ring clutched tightly between his fingers. And despite the many dwarves that stood around him, and the spirits that floated through the air, Thorin had never felt so incredibly alone, so incredibly empty.

* * *

Bilbo hardly recognized the Shire when he returned. The grass was brown and dry beneath his feet. The sun was nowhere to be seen, hidden behind dark and looming clouds in the sky. The wind was filled with a chill that was worse even than the cold of Thorin's kingdom. He shivered and looked at the dead gardens that covered the Shire. Something certainly had to be done.

The hobbits turned to look in his direction as he walked through the Shire, running towards him and rejoicing at his presence. But Bilbo could not bring himself to be happy by the reception, shocked as he was by the desolation around him. He acted quickly, kneeling on the ground and begging the sun to shine again. He pleaded with the skies and allowed his inner light to shine throughout the lands. He worked tirelessly, bringing first the grassy hills back to life. Then he brought flowers up from the soil, and fruit forth from the trees. He poured himself into his work like he never had before. And though he loved the freshness of the air, and the dirt between his toes as he always had, he found it much more difficult to bring forth life than ever before. In the few moments he had to spare, his thoughts would wander, to a strong form, with dark wavy hair, and his hands would settle on the crown atop his head sadly. Even as he stood in the great forests, raising the trees once again from the ground to tower over his form, his fingers toyed with the ring in his pocket as he thought of Thorin Oakenshield.

Time only deepened the feelings in his heart. He knew now that he loved the dwarf king, despite all his faults. He loved his strength, his demeanor, and the way he clearly cared for each spirit that passed through his kingdom. He even loved the king's stubbornness. No one had ever wanted him as much as the dwarf king had. Bilbo recalled the sadness that emanated from Thorin's form and how it had all but disappeared whenever he looked upon him. He contemplated the now lively and once again beautiful Greenwood. He'd managed to restore life to the lands of middle earth once more. And he knew if he left, it would only diminish in his absence. But…he could always return again, when the lands needed his touch.

Bilbo pulled the ring from his pocket and twisted it between his fingers. The sun glinted off the gold and it reminded him of Thorin's rich kingdom. He looked around him one last time, listening as the birds chirped in the branches of the trees above him, and reveling in the feeling of the hot sun upon his face. Then he slipped the ring onto his finger with a smile.

* * *

Thorin watched over his kingdom drearily. It was dark and dank as ever, and no matter what his nephews did to try and raise his spirits, they simply delved deeper into darkness. His beloved hobbit had been gone for what seemed like ages. He had watched him working to restore the lands of Middle Earth with a heavy heart, and had done what he could to keep the Halfling safe and protected. He saw how perfect Bilbo looked with the sun upon his face once more and knew he'd done the right thing, letting him go.

Thorin tapped his fingers steadily against the arm of his throne. He was lonely, and each day without Bilbo by his side pulled at his heart and dragged him further into a deep depression. He was so consumed by his thoughts he nearly missed the door to the throne room opening, but the blinding light that shone through it was enough to draw his attention. Thorin choked on air. There, walking into his halls, was Bilbo Baggins. His cheeks were rosy, and he positively glowed. His clothing flowed about him, and the crown atop his head glittered brilliantly. He looked so refreshed, and so confident. Thorin stood hesitantly then walked slowly towards him.

"You came back?" Thorin whispered, his deep timber echoing through the hall. Bilbo's eyes connected with his and he smiled softly, approached the dwarf king, and lowered his body in a deep bow.

"It would be my pleasure to take you as my husband, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo spoke gently and Thorin's eyes widened. He reached out his hands, letting them hover over the hobbit's arms, but he pulled them away suddenly, almost unwilling to taint him again.

"But…your lands, your home," Thorin murmured, and his eyes flickered up at the crown Bilbo still wore on his head. Bilbo chuckled lightly, and looked up at Thorin from under thick eyelashes.

"I can go back. And I will, to make sure things don't completely die. But I will always return to your side," Bilbo said and then he moved closer to the king and rest his fingers gently in the folds of the dwarf's robes.

"I love you, Thorin," Bilbo confessed.

"I don't quite know why, but…I do," Bilbo admitted with a tiny grin.

"I…," Thorin began, unable to believe his luck. He didn't deserve it. But before he could manage to say another word, Bilbo stood on his toes and pressed their lips together. It was so incredibly chaste, so innocent. It was everything Thorin had ever dreamed of, and he gripped Bilbo to his chest and drew him in closer to deepen the kiss. Bilbo tasted like rivers and rain, fresh flowers and pine needles. He tasted alive, and Thorin adored it. Their bodies entwined with each other like darkness and light, as though they were meant to always exist beside one another.

Balin wed them on a beautiful day in the Shire upon Thorin's request. Bilbo positively shone surrounded by his home, and the beautiful flowers he brought to life with his very touch. Thorin stood out, dark amongst the land of the living, but he had eyes only for his beautiful hobbit. There was no doubt that they would love each other to the end of their days.

Bilbo stayed with Thorin in Erebor as long as he could until Middle Earth needed his touch once again. It was decided that he would spend half of each year at home in the Shire, bringing life forth and happiness to the people there. But always he returned to his king's side, and Thorin received him with open arms each time. The dwarf king was overjoyed with the time he was given with Bilbo, and though he grew saddened each time Bilbo left his side, he knew they would always be reunited. So it was that Middle Earth was blessed with the change of seasons for the rest of time. As long as the flowers bloomed in the spring, the people were reassured that Bilbo Baggins remained alive and well. And each time the leaves drifted to the ground in fall, they knew that he returned to his love's side, and that Thorin Oakenshield, king under the mountain, still watched over the spirits that passed from their world with a tender eye.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so damn long for me to write…it's been a while since my last story. I've got about six or seven Fili/Kili ideas that I really want to work on, but I figured I should get this Thilbo one out first and I struggled a bit with it. I'm working on a lot of cosplay stuff right now, but I'm still going to try and update more often, seeing as Fili and Kili own my life right now.


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